


Resisting the Need

by sharkie335



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-20
Updated: 2010-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-12 01:26:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkie335/pseuds/sharkie335
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John needs it, but he always fights against it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resisting the Need

**Author's Note:**

> Written for telesilla, who bought me for help_haiti. Betaed by the lovely djaddict and seekergeek.

John grabbed a DVD off of the loan library shelf. He didn't pay any attention to what was on it – hopefully they wouldn't even get as far as putting it in the computer.

Five minutes later he was buzzing Rodney's door. It opened immediately, like Rodney was just waiting for him. Without a word, John walked in and handed over the disc.

"So, tonight we're going to watch Four Weddings and a Funeral?" Rodney's voice was mocking. "What, was Steel Magnolias already on loan?"

"I thought… never mind." He snatched the disc out of Rodney's hand and turned to leave the room, except that the door slid shut in his face. "Let me out, Rodney," he said. "I didn't come to be harassed."

He really hadn't come for that. To be taken out of his head, yes, but –

He hadn't realized how close Rodney was until Rodney's hands landed on his shoulders, spinning him around and shoving up against the door. "You're here for me to do whatever I want to you," said Rodney, just before his lips came down in a bruising kiss.

John fought the kiss, fought the feel of Rodney's body pressed against his own, but pushing Rodney back got him nowhere, and after a minute he gave in, body relaxing.

"That's it," whispered Rodney into his mouth when he stopped struggling. "Give it up, John."

John wanted to just give it up, but he found himself rebelling. He no longer struggled, but he didn't actively participate either.

Rodney pulled back and gave him a knowing look. "You really need this, don't you?" He didn't give John a chance to answer. "Take your clothes off."

Before John could give him a smart-ass answer about Rodney holding him in place, Rodney let go of him. John's hands went to the hem of his shirt, but then he paused.

"C'mon, John, we both know you're going to end up on your knees. Save us both some time and strip already."

John hesitated again, waiting for Rodney to argue him into compliance.

He was completely surprised when Rodney slapped him across the face. "Enough fucking around. Safeword or strip."

Face burning from humiliation as well as the slap, John did as he was told, toeing out of his shoes while pulling off his shirt. He unbuttoned his fly and shoved his jeans down around his ankles before standing back up. He fisted his hands at his sides and said, "Fine, I'm naked. Now what?"

"Very good. Now go bend over the bed, ass up."

Still angry and embarrassed, John said, "Fuck you."

Rodney grabbed him by the hair and started to drag him towards the bed. John struggled a little and then he tripped over his pants, still wrapped around his ankles.

He was surprised but he managed to catch himself before he actually fell. He also managed to keep from ripping out hair. It pulled painfully, though. "Ow!"

He wasn't surprised when Rodney didn't let go. "Get untangled," he ordered impatiently.

Not wanting to have his hair pulled out by the roots, he obeyed hurriedly. As soon as he stepped out of the tangled mess of his pants, Rodney was pulling again, dragging him over to the bed, and shoving him down so that his face was on the bed, ass in the air. Only then did Rodney let go.

John could have stopped this with one word, or he could have fought Rodney off without too much effort, but instead he stayed where Rodney had put him. His chest was heaving with the effort it took to breathe, and he was starting to hyperventilate.

The bed settled under Rodney's weight as he settled next to John's side. He started running one hand up and down John's back soothingly. "I don't know why you always have to make this so hard," Rodney murmured.

"I – " John wanted to explain, to justify, but _he_ didn't know. When he couldn't give himself an adequate explanation, how could he give one to Rodney that he'd accept?

"It's okay, John. We'll just work around it." Rodney kept stroking over John's back until he calmed. Then he stood again and John heard the slither of Rodney's belt sliding through the loops of his pants.

Rodney rested one hand on John's hip. The belt was a cold presence, pressing against his ass. "Tell me that you want this," said Rodney. "You know that you're not going to get it until you do."

John whimpered a little. He wanted it, but he didn't want to want it, not that that made any sense at all. Rodney didn't say anything at all. He was just a warm presence behind him, waiting, patient, in the way that Rodney so rarely was.

He was the first to break. "Yes, I want it," he muttered.

"I can't hear you," said Rodney.

He bit his lip, hard, the small pain helping make up his mind. "Please, Rodney, I want it," he said a little more clearly.

"Good," said Rodney. The belt lifted off of John's ass. Rodney didn't move his hand from John's hip, but he tapped John's ass with the belt, one, two, three times. Then John could actually hear it before he felt it, the sharp _crack_ of the belt biting into skin.

 _Then_ he felt it, pain, bright and shining, as the belt striped welts across his ass.

Systematically, Rodney laid down stripe after stripe on John's ass, each one separate and distinct. When his ass felt completely covered, Rodney paused. John could hear him set the belt down on the bed, and then Rodney's other hand was on his other hip, urging him to tip his hips at a deeper angle. His foot was between John's feet, urging his legs further apart.

John quivered under Rodney's hands, because the position he was in meant that he was going to be even more unable to brace against each blow. There was a faint jingle as Rodney picked the belt up, and then it crashed down once again, this time across John's thighs.

John couldn't keep from crying out, or from pushing back into the slap. It was starting to twist up in his head – pleasure and pain all together – and the intensity grew with every stripe Rodney laid down.

Rodney didn't stop until John was whining with each slap of leather against skin. For a long moment, John couldn't believe it was over, hips lifting as he begged, "Please, Rodney. Hurts so good."

He didn't even flinch when Rodney laughed. He was no longer embarrassed or scared. All he wanted was more. Rodney said, "John, are you with me?"

John nodded. He was, even if talking was beyond him at the moment.

Rodney's voice was unbearably gentle. "You need to actually answer me. Or you don't get any more."

That was the impetus John needed to actually speak. "I'm here. More please?"

"If I start again, I'm not going to stop, John, not until you break. Tell me that's what you want."

He practically fell over, he was so relieved. That's exactly what he wanted. "Yes, please," he said.

There was nothing mean about Rodney's laugh this time. "Okay," he said and the belt started to fall again, over and over, criss-crossing other welts. John couldn't stop from moving with the belt, pushing back as it came down, relaxing as Rodney pulled it back.

He was aware that he was whining from behind clenched teeth, but as Rodney continued to hit him with belt, the sound changed.

Tears and sweat ran down his face, soaking through the bedding, and his hands bunched up the blanket. His voice broke as he said, "Fuck, Rodney." He wasn't sure if he meant more or enough.

Rodney stopped, dropping the belt on the floor. He came to stand behind John rough material pressing against John's sore ass, and he shushed John. His hands ran over John's skin, pinching and poking at the welts.

"You're beautiful," said Rodney, his voice cutting through the blur of pain.

John didn't _feel_ beautiful. His face was wet and felt flushed. He was standing, open and exposed, with his ass red and welted; yet Rodney still thought he was beautiful, and that was important.

Slowly, his breathing calmed and the tears stopped. John wiped his face on the blanket. He was too relaxed to do anything but let his upper body settle on the bed and shift his feet to feel the welts pull deliciously.

Through it all, Rodney muttered soothing math equations about resistance and force. "The resistance of a resistive object determines the amount of current through the object – are you back with me?"

John nodded slowly, not sure he actually was but willing to try.

"I want you climb up on the bed, and get on your hands and knees. Can you do that for me?"

"Okay," said John. His arms and legs didn't want to cooperate at first, since they felt like jelly, but eventually he managed. He knelt, head hanging low between shoulders, completely relaxed in the way that he only got when they played like this.

He heard Rodney taking off his clothes, but didn't bother to turn his head. If there were something he needed to worry about, Rodney would tell him.

At the feel of Rodney's skin against John's, John moaned. It felt so good! Rodney's hips pressed against his, and his cock nudged against the back of John's balls, and he pressed back, trying to get Rodney where he wanted him, where he needed him.

The head of Rodney's cock brushed over John's hole, and he groaned. "Please, please, please," he begged.

"Shh," said Rodney, pulling away. John whimpered, but before he could move, Rodney was back. He heard the lube open with a _snick_ and then slick fingers were tracing a path from his tailbone to his balls and back again.

Just when John thought he was going to go mad with want, Rodney finally, _finally_ , slid a single finger inside. "Yes," hissed John. It felt so good, to be opened like this.

Rodney fucked John with one finger until he whined and begged for more. Then he added a second finger, scissoring and twisting them inside John's body. John moaned and whimpered, riding out the stretch.

They had sex often enough that John didn't think that he needed that much prep anymore, but he knew that Rodney loved to torture him, make him lie there and take it.

Slowly, a third finger entered him, opening him up. John moaned because three fingers meant that he'd get Rodney's cock soon. He wanted that so much, especially since Rodney wasn't pressing on his prostate at all. Given how well he was fingering John, that had to be deliberate.

"You're teasing me," said John dreamily. His mouth felt foreign and strange when he tried to form words. "Trying to get me to beg more."

With no warning, Rodney crooked his fingers, putting direct pressure, right where John wanted it. "I don't have to _try_ to get you to beg, do I?" 

John pushed back with a hoarse cry. "Oh, please, please, please…"

Rodney chuckled. "Case in point." Relaxing the pressure, he went back to sliding his fingers in and out. "Tell me what you want," he murmured. "You know what I want to hear. _Tell me_ ."

John had no pride left. He needed it too bad to allow for pride. Clenching the blanket so hard that he was at risk of tearing it, he begged, "Please, Rodney. Please fuck me. Get your cock inside me. I need it, want it. Please!"

Excruciatingly slowly, Rodney slid his fingers out. Then the fat, blunt head of his cock pressed against John's hole. "Push back, John. Take me in."

When John would have pushed back fast, taking Rodney hard, Rodney locked his hands on John's hips, controlling the speed. Inch by inch, Rodney's cock slid inside John, making him moan.

When Rodney's hips pressed against his again, John whispered, "Now, Rodney. Fuck me now."

Rodney's hips started to rock, just moving an inch or two at a time. John dropped his head to the bed, raising his hips a little further, and Rodney chuckled. "I'm not rushing this," said Rodney, but John was satisfied to hear that he sounded a little winded.

He kept moving, just a little at a time, shifting angles until he managed to press the head of his cock right on John's prostate. John cried out again. "Yeah, there. Oh, god, right there."

"Good," said Rodney, hips flexing slightly as he rubbed his cock over that spot again and again.

John's cock was leaking, slapping against his stomach, and if Rodney kept it up much longer, John was going to come. He didn't have permission, though, so he tried to think of something else, anything else. It wasn't working.

"Can I come?" John asked. "Please, Rodney."

"Not yet," said Rodney. He slowly pulled out, leaving John feeling empty, wet, and cold. "Turn over."

It required painful squirming to get John onto his back, and he panted in pained pleasure as his ass rubbed against the blanket. As soon as he managed to get on his back, he spread his legs wide, draping them over Rodney's thighs.

"Eager," said Rodney, shifting his legs a little so that he could move forward, spreading John's legs further and hitching them higher. Slowly his cock slid back into John, opening him back up.

John was practically bent in half, but that didn't stop him from reaching for Rodney and pulling him down so that their lips could meet. The kiss was slow and wet and said everything that they couldn't say with words.

While the kiss went on and on, they were still. When Rodney lifted his head and broke the kiss, John lifted his hips in silent request.

Rodney kissed him again, quickly, and then he started to fuck hard and deep and slow. Every stroke was perfect, pushing John into the bed and reminding him of the bruises and welts on his ass over again.

He reached down and grasped his cock around the base, trying to hold off his approaching orgasm. But Rodney said, "Yeah, go ahead. Touch yourself. I want to feel you come."

Permission given, John started to stroke himself. He matched Rodney's rhythm at first, but his body demanded more, and he sped up. It wasn't going to take much more. Every nerve in his body was clenching tight, and when he ran his thumb over that spot below the head of his cock, they let go all at once, come pumping out over his hand.

"Yeah," whispered Rodney, his hips stuttering momentarily. Then he started fucking John fast and careless. "I'm gonna come. You ready for it?"

So relaxed that he could barely move, John slurred out, "Yeah, give it to me."

One, two, three, more strokes and Rodney came with a long, drawn out groan.

Rodney's hands were braced on either side of John's shoulders, and he rested there for a long moment, John still bent in half. John started to have trouble breathing and he said, "Uh, Rodney – "

"Sorry." Rodney knelt up, letting John's legs relax, and then pulled out with a wince from both of them. John hadn't realized just how sore he was till this moment.

It felt, well, not _good_ , but satisfying, in all sorts of ways.

Rodney climbed off the bed and went to fetch a cloth from the bathroom. John was more than happy to let him, moving only at his urging and rolling right back as soon as Rodney was done. He heard the sound of the wet cloth hitting the metal floor, and then Rodney got back on the bed.

Thankfully, Rodney's bed was larger than John's, so John didn't have to move much to let Rodney wrap himself around him. Rodney's lips brushed against John's neck, making him feel…safe, protected.

"You did good," said Rodney. "So perfect like this."

John closed his eyes. He loved hearing that from Rodney. He wanted to be perfect for him. Besides, he needed it so much.

But for now, the need had backed off, and he could close his eyes and sleep.

As he relaxed into the bed, Rodney's warmth seeped into him. He couldn't _wait_ till next time.


End file.
